Where The Good Ones Go
by unoriginalrhombus
Summary: "The girl laughs. And it's sweet, like candy, but comforting like eggnog on Christmas Day. It's music in it's simplest form, but it's a melody nonetheless, and it's the first melody that Santana has ever wanted to just dance to. Her ears peak in interest & her skin tingles fondly & it's a high that makes her think of first times and choir rooms." Dantana. AU-ish. Multi-chapter.


_A/N: Well, apparently I like writing new stories, haha. My creativity wanders off and likes to create new things, but please do not fret for I do have plans to complete everything that I can. I just have so many things happening in my life that it's hard to focus, and I think that shows with all the stories I keep writing. Anyway, please enjoy this. This one will be a long story. From beginning to end. Reviews and comments and everything in between would be lovely. _

_A/N 2: I have a tumblr! If any of you have questions, comments, or personal inquiries please go find me at unoriginalrhombus and I will be very happy to answer them._

_A/N 3: Also, so this is mostly cannon. Like, the timeline is a little skewed from the show as you'll notice fairly quickly, but a lot of what's happened on the show I did include into this. Also, shamelessly stole a line from grumpy cat. Who is hilarious on twitter. Okay, I'm done now!_

* * *

**Chapter One**

The first time Santana sees _her_, she's incredibly drunk.

It's nearing three in the morning and she's stumbling through the the last four blocks to the loft.

To be fair though, there is rarely a night (or early morning) where Santana isn't stumbling home after a ton of underage drinking. It's one of the perks of working in a bar where men and women just want to get you _drunk_ because they figure that a drunk pretty girl is better than a sober one. Santana isn't one to complain though, free booze is just that and she's quickly figured out that being numb is better than being lonely, so she takes the free drinks and drowns them with gusto.

She blames Rachel, really, mostly because it's _easy_ but also because Rachel goes day to day like nothing has ever really changed. Rachel moves in and out like any of them have never left Lima behind, like Blaine never cheated on Kurt, like Brittany never broke Santana's heart, like Finn never died.

**Finn.**

**Oh, Finn.**

Santana stands still and closes her eyes tightly, her palms digging into her eyes to keep them from watering against her will. As if blocking out the world will help the ache in her heart that appears every time she thinks of that bumbling oaf from high school. It's too fresh, too real, too close and all together it's just too much.

It's not something that she likes to think about-it's not something she _wants_ to think about, and Santana figures that if she can just ignore it long enough (the feelings, always the feelings) that eventually all of it will go away. Because, honestly, there are no words to give. There's nothing real that she can say to make everything better. There's no jokes or punch lines or quips that will make everything feel like they used to because Finn _is_ gone and Rachel _isn't_ herself and Kurt _is _crying whenever he thinks he's alone and Santana _isn't_ sure what she's supposed to feel.

She's been a major contributor/participant to some of the most terrifying, complex, draining, and confusing Cheerio routines and yet Santana still can't wrap her head around the fact that Finn (stupid Finn) was here a little while ago, being an idiot, and now he's not. It's weird and dumb and when she thinks about how much of an moron Finn was, it makes her head hurt (along with her heart), and Santana can't handle it.

She **won't** handle it.

She has to be sane, she truly has to, because if she changes too, then nothing will feel the same anymore. If Santana lets herself fall then she's never going to get back up. And that can't happen, it just can't.

So Santana sighs. She hunches her shoulders, wraps her leather jacket tighter around her frame, and carries on home because there is literally no where else that she can go.

* * *

She's about two blocks away from home when she swears that she smells breadsticks, so she takes a sharp left on instinct and lets her nose guide her. She's barely a block into her search when she quite literally comes across a small convenience store.

Santana scrunches her face in drunken confusion because she's been in New York for a few months now and she's never come across this store before. It hits her that she hasn't really ever taken the time to explore New York-at least not yet-because it's always been one thing after another and now, well, Finn's just one thing that was after another.

She shivers and crosses her arms, not really certain if she should go in or just go home. But then she remembers that home is just **a** home these days, not her home, and it's enough to get her legs to start moving again towards the front door.

Santana shifts to the side and uses her right shoulder to push open the door that way she doesn't have to touch anything. If she's learned anything so far, it's that she doesn't want to actually touch anything after midnight. Who knows what kind of weird people juices could be covering it.

The bell rings behind her as the door closes. She ignores it and continues to follow her nose towards the back of the store. Santana ignores the greeting that someone yells at her and continues on her quest. She can't make things easier or better but she can get breadsticks, so she's going to. It's the small things, she supposes.

That's when she sees _her._

Santana literally stops in her tracks as her eyes take in the girl that's sitting in front of the alcohol case. She has blonde hair that runs past her shoulders, black rimmed glasses, this ridiculous apron with two kittens on it and a beanie at the top of her head. She's pretty, like ridiculously so, but it isn't until the girl lifts her head towards the speakers in the ceiling, closes her eyes, and just _smiles_ that Santana realizes the girl isn't just pretty, she's _beautiful._

It hits her hard and square in the heart, nestling in between all the love and love lost that Santana's experienced recently. It's the first girl that Santana has considered beautiful since Brittany, and when that realization crosses her mind, it suddenly makes everything else worse.

It's too much change in such a small amount of time and suddenly all Santana wants to do is drink. Drinking makes everything better, it makes things bearable, and it made Santana incapable of breaking. It solved her problems and numbed the solutions and all together just built bridges instead of burning them. Alcohol was her hero here and what Santana needed was for it to save her.

So she walks forward until she's standing in front of the girl, her hands tapping anxiously against her sides. The girl is humming along to the song that's playing throughout the store and Santana has to clear her throat to get the girl to pay attention to her. The girl opens her eyes quickly but the smile doesn't fade and Santana doesn't know why but it doesn't feel _right_. This girl is too happy in a way that's overwhelming, in a way that pushes Santana's anxiety. Santana doesn't like it, she doesn't like the way she starts to sweat underneath her boobs or the way that her pores are reeking of vodka, so she lifts her hands and places them on the counter that's separating her from the girl.

"Listen here," Santana says while baring all of her teeth. "I don't have time for you to sing merrily and have the time of your life, like some Disney Princess song. What I need you to do is grab me a bottle of your cheapest vodka so I can gets going, going, gone."

The girl frowns, clearly affronted, and leans back as if she's assessing Santana's statement.

After a few moments the girl raises her eyebrow and sticks out her hand.

"What do you want? A high five?"

The girl rolls her eyes and extends her arm further. "Your ID."

Santana doesn't say anything back. Instead she reaches her right hand into her bra and pulls out her fake ID. She ignores the weird look that crosses the other girl's face as she places the flimsy plastic into her hand. Santana gets a flash of tattoos and a name tag before the girl is retreating towards the register, but it's too fast for Santana to really see anything.

For a second Santana thinks about Finn again and Rachel's wide smile and before she can really think about it, she's drumming her fingers against the counter in irritation. There's no use thinking about name tags, tattoos, or old friends because in the end they disappear and people change and things just stop making sense.

Nothing makes sense anymore.

Sometimes Santana wishes that she was seventeen again. She wishes for a time when she knew what was happening and who she was going to be, when Kurt and Rachel were happy and when Santana only saw a future with Brittany (when she saw _the _future with Brittany).

"Rosario?"

Santana doesn't look. By now her mind is already spiraling in the circle that is somber thoughts and if she isn't careful she will sober up soon. She isn't thinking about her fake name or some insult that will make this moment feel more like real life, instead of some stupid dream.

"Rosario?" Santana hears again. Except this time the clerk girl is snapping her fingers in front of Santana's face and Santana has to resist the urge to go all Lima Heights Adjacent on her ass.

**(Well, it's nice to know that not everything has changed.)**

"What?" Santana asks, irritation seeping into her voice.

The girl smirks as she puts Santana's ID onto the counter. "I like your name."

"Thanks. I got it for my birthday," Santana replies dryly. Her dress is starting to stick to her uncomfortably and she's only now realizing how cold it is. Her feet are aching in a way that only becomes apparent after drinks wear off, and her hair is slowly slipping out of the loose ponytail she had put it in earlier. She's a hot mess and she knows it, and she doesn't have time to play games. "Are we done with all the chitter chatter yet?"

This is when _something _happens.

_**Something.**_

The girl _laughs_. And it's sweet, like candy, but comforting like eggnog on Christmas Day. It's warm like hot cocoa and soft like small hugs from friends. It's _music_ in it's simplest form, but it's a melody nonetheless, and it's the first melody that Santana has ever wanted to just dance to. Her ears peak in interest and her skin tingles fondly and it's a high that makes her think of first times and choir rooms. Of best friends and late nights. Of promises.

It's a moment.

"You're funny," the girl says with a laugh. "And you're also late."

"Huh?" Santana asks, still caught up in the music that only she could hear.

The girl points to the clock behind Santana, the one hanging over the front door. "It's after four. Liquor sales are prohibited after four."

Santana frowns, but she's too thrown off to really be angry. "Fine. Whatever you say Clerk Girl." Santana reaches for her ID and turns her heel, every part of her body ready to just run.

"Dani," the girl says. "My name is Dani."

Santana shrugs. "Good for you."

The girl laughs again and this time Santana closes her eyes on reflex. _Home_, she thinks, _if home were a sound, this would be it._

Santana feels a hand cover hers, effectively keeping her in place. She shivers, and this time she isn't sure why. She shivers and she stands still.

"Most girls don't travel around at four am for the heck of it," Dani comments, her voice soft. Dani must lean over the counter because in an instant Santana is engulfed with the smell of citrus and chocolate. It's not a pair Santana would have ever considered putting together, but somehow it fits. This moment, this girl, this trouble (her troubles).

Santana opens her eyes in a rush and almost rears back when she sees how close Dani's face is to hers. She looks concerned and it's the first time in this city that a stranger has ever seemed concerned over her well being.

It's off putting. It's friendly. It's everything Santana isn't used to.

"Is everything okay?" Dani asks, the worry evident in her voice. It makes Santana wonder about the things she's seen, if Dani actually has cause to be concerned. If Santana looks as messed up as she feels. Santana wonders if this is the way life was always supposed to go, if she was always meant to be lost, if she was always meant to end up here.

"Rosario?"

"You smell," Santana blurts out before she can think of something more coherent and put together to say.

"What?"

"Good," Santana corrects, her cheeks burning. "You smell good."

Dani releases her hand and pulls back, a soft smile on her face. "Okay, Rosario." Dani says with another laugh (a laugh that's cleverly wrapped in another song). "Okay."

"Okay," Santana repeats, like it's her mantra, her body sagging uncomfortably against the counter. "Okay."

_(It's okay.)_


End file.
